Glenn Ashley Paterson
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Someone whistles
in the parking garage
and the echo
settles in the
spaces
between rows
of parked cars.
…
In one moment
she is
the world drowning
in rain.
In the next,
she is nothing more
than the candle
I am falling asleep by.
…
The words in my head
quiver with the sighs
of disappearing sparrows.
…
To be lonely today
is to be sandwater
in the footprints
of what it was to be lonely
a hundred years ago.
…
I dream of being as delicate
as the woman eating pearls
of white rice with chopsticks,
but my fork is heavy in my fist,
and I detest rice.
…
First I was a globe,
inspiring conversation
and the weight of open palms.
…
Today in the sunbeams
that melted over my hair,
I plowed twenty-four acres of restlessness
with the crescent moons of my fingernails.